Domestic Shorthair kittens & cats in Punta Gorda, Florida

Greetings, peasants. I am Peanut Butter, sovereign of the sunspot, empress of the elevated perch, and curator of all things quiet, orderly, and dignified. I am currently reviewing suitors for the role of Personal Ear-Scratcher and Can Opener. Do not take this lightly — I will be selective. I am three years old, draped in a coat of the finest black velvet, with eyes like molten gold and a stare that can both enchant and silently judge. I am beautiful. This is not up for debate. My temperament, you ask? I am a woman of taste and standards. I enjoy peace, solitude, and predictable schedules. I do not enjoy being picked up without notice, or any loud nonsense. If you come into my chambers with a feather toy and a little respect, we may get along. If you storm in like a fool with jazz hands and high-pitched squealing, I shall vanish like a shadow at sunrise. Once I deem you worthy (and you will know — there may be a blink, a slow tail curl, perhaps a regal head tilt), I may grant you the great honor of scratching behind my ears. I might even purr. But remember: I am not your emotional support animal. You are mine. I dine with grace and expect wet food on occasion. Treats are acceptable when offered with reverence. I occasionally enjoy play, as it is important to maintain one's athleticism, but only when I am in the mood and the toy is stylish. Preferred Living Arrangements: My ideal kingdom is quiet and peaceful. I may tolerate other feline nobility if they respect my space. No loud dogs, and no small children — I’ve no time for the chaos of the court. A calm adult or two who understand the value of personal space and admire my elegance from afar until summoned? Perfect. If you are patient, respectful, and appreciate a queen who knows what she wants (and is absolutely worth it), I may just allow you into my inner circle. Apply within. Tribute of wet food encouraged. — HRH Peanut Butter, Ruler of the Villages and All That She Surveys

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Greetings, peasants. I am Peanut Butter, sovereign of the sunspot, empress of the elevated perch, and curator of all things quiet, orderly, and dignified. I am currently reviewing suitors for the role of Personal Ear-Scratcher and Can Opener. Do not take this lightly — I will be selective. I am three years old, draped in a coat of the finest black velvet, with eyes like molten gold and a stare that can both enchant and silently judge. I am beautiful. This is not up for debate. My temperament, you ask? I am a woman of taste and standards. I enjoy peace, solitude, and predictable schedules. I do not enjoy being picked up without notice, or any loud nonsense. If you come into my chambers with a feather toy and a little respect, we may get along. If you storm in like a fool with jazz hands and high-pitched squealing, I shall vanish like a shadow at sunrise. Once I deem you worthy (and you will know — there may be a blink, a slow tail curl, perhaps a regal head tilt), I may grant you the great honor of scratching behind my ears. I might even purr. But remember: I am not your emotional support animal. You are mine. I dine with grace and expect wet food on occasion. Treats are acceptable when offered with reverence. I occasionally enjoy play, as it is important to maintain one's athleticism, but only when I am in the mood and the toy is stylish. Preferred Living Arrangements: My ideal kingdom is quiet and peaceful. I may tolerate other feline nobility if they respect my space. No loud dogs, and no small children — I’ve no time for the chaos of the court. A calm adult or two who understand the value of personal space and admire my elegance from afar until summoned? Perfect. If you are patient, respectful, and appreciate a queen who knows what she wants (and is absolutely worth it), I may just allow you into my inner circle. Apply within. Tribute of wet food encouraged. — HRH Peanut Butter, Ruler of the Villages and All That She Surveys

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